The Flavor of the New Year：A Taste of Glass Shards

Old Wang, or rather, former Old Wang, is now "Glass King." Ever since he was sued by Haidilao, this nickname has spread throughout his neighborhood. Old Wang wasn't angry; instead, he thought the name was kind of artistic, like a performance artist.

His "artistic" career began last month when he discovered a secret: Haidilao's free snacks occasionally contained broken glass. This wasn't some conspiracy theory but rather a low-probability event on the production line. However, Old Wang seized this "low probability." He began his performance, biting down, spitting out glass shards while the staff watched in horror, and then demanding "emotional distress compensation" with a look of deep suffering.

The first two times, he was clumsy, like a rookie, but soon he got into the groove, like a skilled pianist, precisely controlling his expressions of "pain" and tone of "anger." Each time, he successfully got some money, not much, just a few hundred yuan, but enough to buy a few pounds of pork to improve his family's meals.

He didn't tell his wife about the money, saying he made a bit from stock trading. His wife was overjoyed, praising Old Wang's abilities to everyone she met. Old Wang felt a pang in his heart listening to this, but it was soon overshadowed by the impending flavor of the New Year.

And now, the New Year was almost here again. The New Year goods market at the entrance of their neighborhood had become lively. Old Wang thought, this year, he must make his family's New Year celebration a grand one. He decided to do another "performance" to get more money to buy new clothes for the children and give a big red envelope to the elders.

This time, Old Wang was extra careful. He went to Haidilao a day in advance, bought a takeaway, carefully picked out the glass shards, wrapped them in plastic wrap, and put them in his mouth. To ensure the effectiveness of his "performance," he even practiced various painful expressions in front of the mirror, like a professional actor.

The next day, he went to the Haidilao at the entrance of his neighborhood. With the New Year approaching, the restaurant was packed, the noisy chatter and shouts mingled with the aroma of hot pot, filling the air, creating the feeling of New Year.

Old Wang chose a window seat, pretended to eat a few bites, and then he began his "performance."

"Ouch!" He clutched his mouth, his face turning pale instantly, and painfully spat out a small piece of glass shard. "What's going on! Haidilao, how can there be glass?!" His voice rose an octave, attracting the attention of everyone around.

The waiters were frightened, and the manager rushed over. Old Wang, still holding his mouth, pointed at the glass shards on the table, his painful expression so vivid, it was as if he had really been cut by the glass.

The manager apologized repeatedly, gave Old Wang some "compensation," and also a 500-yuan voucher. Old Wang took the money, adopted the victim's posture again, and said meaningfully: "It's almost the New Year, you guys also need to be careful, don't let people eat uncomfortably."

Just as he was about to get up and leave, a familiar voice suddenly came from the entrance: "Dad? What are you doing here?"

Old Wang turned around and saw his son standing at the entrance, holding a bag of New Year goods, including the Transformers he had bought for his son. Behind his son was his wife, carrying a few bags of vegetables and a bag of pork in a red plastic bag.

Old Wang looked at the Transformers in his son's hand, and then at the pork in his wife's hand, and suddenly understood. He realized that the money he had painstakingly obtained through "glass" had ultimately been exchanged for the "flavor of the New Year."

He looked at the bustling crowd in the restaurant, everyone's face filled with the joy of the New Year. He suddenly felt dizzy, as if he himself was the one who had been cut by glass.

His son walked up to him, asking in confusion, "Dad, didn't you say you were having dinner with colleagues today? What are you doing here?"

Old Wang opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but he found that his throat felt like it was full of glass shards, and he couldn't say a word.

Just then, a scream suddenly came from the restaurant: "Oh my god, I found glass in my food!"

Everyone's gaze turned towards the woman who had screamed. She spat out a piece of broken glass from her mouth, her eyes full of fear and anger.

Old Wang looked at the woman, at the panicked crowd around, and he suddenly laughed, tears streaming down his face.

He suddenly realized that he was not the "Glass King," he was just a clown in this absurd drama, a clown who tried to use "glass shards" to add a bit of the New Year's flavor for himself before the New Year.

He finally understood that the true flavor of the New Year was not money, not new clothes, nor big red envelopes, but a family being together safe and sound, and that even just a bag of ordinary pork had more warmth than the glass shards in his mouth.

He sighed, put the money in his son's hand, and said, "Let's go, let's go home for the New Year."